Whispers in the Wind
by tmnt15girl
Summary: In a new world in which mutants walk amongst humans, Gemma Golden gets a chance of a lifetime. To become a famous musician. But when she embarks in this world, with a relationship to a mutant, what happens when her past comes to haunt her? Will she make her way through the challenges or will she fall victim to unavoidable situations?


Disclaimer: I do not own the ninja turtles or any of the Civil Wars songs. So don't sue me for my creativity! Please read and review!

Chapter One

"Who's gonna take my hand

Show me the wa-ay?

How long will I have

To wait for someday –someday?" I finished my set. The people erupted in applause. "Thank you very much!"

With that ending note, I gathered up my guitar and exited into the back of the stage. I always had a standing ovation, so I didn't quite understand why I was unable to make a deal with a record company.

Most of them just pitched my CD after I gave it to the producer. The first time I hadn't even been through the door when he threw it in the trash. Maybe I didn't dance as provocatively as many of the musicians today, but it didn't mean my music was lacking in any way.

"Are you Miss Gemma Golden?" a man in a suit asked me, using my stage name. Glancing at him a little suspiciously I found myself annoyed.

"Well, who's asking?" I went to my guitar case.

"I'm a talent scout for Mr. Michael Hamato." He stuck his hand out. Reluctantly I shook his hand. "I think you've got potential. If you're interested in cutting a demo tomorrow, here's the card. Be there at 2:30 P.M."

Mr. Michael Angelo Hamato

Rising Sun Recording Studios

1758 E. Bonsai Drive

Los Angelos, CA 90212

The next day I was in the elevator listening to the horrible soprano music. I was wearing a nice blue blouse, my best jeans, heeled boots, my guitar, and a backpack. Call me casual but I normally didn't find a dress suit in my closet. After getting off the elevator I approached the receptionist.

"I have an appointment with Mr. Hamato at 2:30."

"Gemma Golden?" she flashed me a brilliant and white smile.

"Yes," I pulled nervously on the hem of my blouse.

"Have a seat. He'll be out shortly." With a smile I took a seat. There were magazines available but I couldn't focus on anything so I just grabbed paper and began to compose a new song.

"Miss Golden!" I heard a joyful, happy, surfer-like voice.

"One sec!" My tongue was poked out of my mouth, in my intense concentration. "Let me hold your hand –And dance round and round the flames in front of us!" I sang as I furiously scribbled the chorus to a new song. "Dust to dust." As I finished I looked up. "Sorrry about that."

"No worries, Miss Golden. My name is Mike Hamato," He extended a hand that was green and only had three fingers. This man, who would hopefully become my manager was a mutant. Like a 6' tall turtle mutant.

I didn't really have a problem with mutants though I knew some people did. Racism now included anthropomorphic mutants.

"So Miss Golden –" He said as he closed the door to his office.

"Mr. Hamato, please call me Gemma," I interrupted as I took a seat in front of his desk. He grinned as he took his seat as well.

"Alright, Gemma. Then I must insist you call me Mike or even Mikey. Mr. Hamato makes me feel old, like my father." In reality he didn't look a day over twenty-five. I wondered how old he was and if he would age the same.

"Alright Mike," I smiled at him.

"So before I sign you on, does my being a mutant freak you out?" He asked, dead serious.

"Not at all," I answered him truthfully. "You're actually, the first record company to sign me on, or even consider it. The others refused."

"Good. Did you bring any of your work?" Mike relaxed in his chair a bit. Wordlessly I handed him a disk I fished out of my backpack.

"My brother Paul used to sing with me. But he died a little over 9 months ago. Some of my songs are lacking a male accompaniment." Mike nodded and listened to the demo for several minutes.

"You have great talent," Mike finally said. "I'd like to sign you on for two CD's. After that we'll see how you wish to proceed."

"Ok," I whispered. I was ready to cry. For over eighteen years my dream was to be a professional singer. It was finally coming true.

"So you need to come in tomorrow at ten to sign the contract, then you are going to screen a potential accompaniment. Alright?" Mike grinned at me. When I agreed he led me to the receptionist, shook my hand and bid me farewell, promising to see me tomorrow.


End file.
